


A Matter of Experience

by GalaxyGazing



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Oral Sex, Other, Robot Sex, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGazing/pseuds/GalaxyGazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The difference between Bumblebee and Smokescreen's worldliness is vast. Sometimes it distances them. Sometimes it brings them closer together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Experience

 

Bumblebee and Smokescreen both belonged to the last generation of Cybertronians born of the AllSpark before it ceased to function in the days of war. Though they were relatively the same age, their experiences left them lifetimes apart.  
  
Bee had fought through the horrors of the battle for Cybertron, had his voice box ripped from his jugular, watched his home planet fall to ruin, suffered the painful losses of many friends, endured the horrors of M.E.C.H.’s surgical removal of his t-cog, and had valiantly defeated Megatron.

Smokescreen had been in stasis for the entirety of the war.

Bee was the levelheadedness to Smokescreen’s overconfidence, the reservation to his impulsiveness, the serenity to his enthusiasm. Age did not equal maturity and often times Smokescreen’s actions or words would emphasize this fact, widening the gap between him and his comrade.

Despite all of this, Smokescreen idolized Bee to no end and, while Bee was occasionally off put by Smokescreen’s naiveté, he understood the reasons for it.

However, the extent of their differences was not limited to their mentality. Being in stasis for so long had denied Smokescreen’s body some of its more primitive cravings which were now, finally, starting to manifest.

“Please, Bee… _please_ ,” Smokescreen groaned almost painfully, pausing his barrage of glossa and lips to beg. Smokescreen had Bee pushed up against a wall, mouthing openly at his neck cables, hips subconsciously rocking against Bee’s black thigh, “It’s been so long for me.”

Bee’s blue optics whirred, adjusting his gaze on the cobalt bot before him. Though Smokescreen had been the one to initiate this, Bee wasn’t denying that he had kissed him back. Venting softly, Bee tilted his helm back against the wall, giving Smokescreen access to lick and suck more of his cables.

“That’s not a very good reason,” Bee sighed, “Just cuz it’s been a while.”

Smokescreen’s internals flickered with excitement at the sound of Bee’s voice which was still so new to him. Not too long ago Bee’s only means of communication was a limited vocalizer. Hearing him now, all gentle tones and smooth vowels, Smokescreen couldn’t imagine ever going back to beeps and buzzes.

Pulling back, Smokescreen lifted his helm to address Bee more seriously. Likewise, Bee leveled his own helm so their gazes aligned. When Smokescreen spoke again his vocals were still hungry, but now they held a more sincere tone, desperate to be understood, “That’s not what I meant. It’s not just that. It’s…”

Smokescreen touched their forehelms together. Bee could feel the heat shared between them, radiating off of both of their metals.

“…It’s _you_ , Bee,” Smokescreen managed, voice hitched, “It’s _because_ it’s you.”

This, Bee had not expected. He excused and forgave much of Smokescreen’s greenness, simply because he had been denied the chance to become worldly—Bee had assumed that this was merely another demonstration of a young bot needing to satiate his young desires.

Yet, whether for better or for worse, Smokescreen had the habit of always speaking straight from his Spark. Sometimes his honesty was his misfortune and sometimes, like now, it brought him closer to others.

“Yeah?” Bee asked, the word hanging on the thick air between them. He shifted the thigh between Smokescreen’s legs and Smokescreen impulsively ground down on it.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen quavered, optics falling shut.

“Show me,” Bee demanded in a quiet whisper, “Prove it to me.”

It was as if Smokescreen had been waiting an eternity for that very challenge and, now that he had permission, he was more than ready to rise to it.

The yellow bot just barely had time to catch the forceful kiss, their mouths meeting roughly before breaking wetly. Smokescreen held Bee’s slender waist with both Servos as he trailed his kisses downward, pressing an especially tender kiss over his new voice box.

Bee’s optics whirred once again, lidding as he watched Smokescreen move lower. The cobalt mech ghosted kisses down his chestplate, pressed them into his abdomen, trailed a slick line over his spike covering, and came to stop at his valve.

Each of Smokescreen’s servos had wandered down with the rest of him and one stroked a ticklish thumb over Bee’s inner thigh. Sitting up on his knees, Smokescreen silently pleaded for access. Balancing his weight against the wall behind him, Bee complied, retracting his interface panel, inching his pedes apart, and spreading his legs.

With room now to do so, Smokescreen continued on his road of kisses, pressing his lips in short little clicks down the seam of Bee’s folds. Bee twitched impatiently at the sensation. He hadn’t expected a bot with such revving, youthful energy to be so very good at teasing.

When Smokescreen had divulged that he admired Bee’s patience, apparently, he had also wished to adopt the quality for himself.

The subtle thrust did not escape the kneeling bot and it only encouraged him to carry on. Gently parting the metal folds with his thumbs, Smokescreen pressed his faceplate into the slick valve, glossa lapping up the welling transfluids with voracity.

Bee groaned, a sound that he was surprised to hear come from his throat—that was a sound he had not made since millennia before the war; it was low and gravelly and reverberated from deep within his core. His knees buckled and Bee braced himself against the wall with both servos, angling his body outwards and onto Smokescreen’s probing glossa.

Smokescreen wrapped an arm underneath Bee’s thigh, hooking it around to guide him, seating him further onto his mouth. The blue bot made no efforts to stifle the sounds he was making, all wet and slick, enjoying himself immensely.  
  
“ _Primus_ ,” Bee hissed when Smokescreen grew bold enough to circle his glossa around his anterior node. Liking the reaction, Smokescreen closed his lips around the sensitive little nerve cluster and gave it a few rhythmic sucks. Bee jolted, riding out the rolling waves of oversensitivity by jerking his hips, which Smokescreen amiably let him. The kneeling bot hummed his delight, loving that Bee was employing his mouth as he so pleased.

The temporary attention given to Bee’s outer node had allowed his valve to dribble transfluid freely down Smokescreen’s chin. Realizing that he was being wasteful, Smokescreen gave Bee’s hypersensitive clit a moment to rest while he swirled his glossa around the rim of his valve, cleaning him up.

“Want you,” Smokescreen murmured into the puffy folds, making Bee’s whole frame shudder, “Only you.”

Bee offlined his optics for a moment as Smokescreen pressed a kiss to his thigh, which was somehow much gentler than the others had been. When the yellow bot looked down to see why, Smokescreen was staring up at him in a way that made Bee very inclined to believe him.

“You’re so amazing, Bee. All that you’ve accomplished, all that you are. I’ve learned so much from you and I want to keep learning. I know I have a long way to go, and at times it seems like I’m way behind where I should be…but just being around you makes me feel like I’m growing into a better individual,” Smokescreen pressed his cheek plate to Bee’s leg, nuzzling into it, “I like who you’ve helped me to become.”

For the first time since Bee’s voice box had been restored, he was at a loss for words. Stunned into a very saturated silence, he simply placed a servo to Smokescreen’s cheekplate, optics swirling wide.

Smokescreen placed his own servo over Bee’s and turned his helm to place a gentle kiss into his palm.

“Tell me what you want,” Bee finally managed, voice thick.

“I want you inside of me.”

With a wordless nod, Bee lowered himself to the floor and Smokescreen laid onto his back. Truthfully, when Bee thought he knew what he was getting himself into, he had imagined that he would just be helping Smokescreen appease a primitive function. Now, Bee realized, this was something he wanted just as badly.

Smokescreen’s interface panel shifted open with a discreet click; the amount of transfluid that it released revealed that he had been aching for this since they began. He also opened his spike covering, stroking himself slowly, all the while mesmerized by the bot before him.

Bee exposed his spike in a similar manner, positioning himself between Smokescreen’s trembling legs. This was something that Bee had done many times in the past, but not particularly in recent years. Yet, as rusty as Bee assumed he might be, Smokescreen hadn’t interfaced since before Alpha Trion put him in stasis which was _lifetimes_ ago.

Bee rubbed a solitary digit into Smokescreen’s valve, circling the entrance gently, “You need to be stretched?”

Smokescreen gave an only partially bashful grin as he shook his helm, “No, I…I’ve been taking care of that myself. Just…”

Now it was Bee’s turn to take charge of a kiss. Pressing their lips together, Bee shocked the young bot into silence who, in turn, wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

When they broke, Bee looked down between them to guide himself. Placing the head of his spike and Smokescreen’s slippery entrance, he filled him up with one, slow push.

Both bots were surprised by the intensity of their own reactions as well as each other’s. They groaned and shuddered and clung to each other, finally quelling a need that had been denied for ages. Bee kissed into Smokescreen’s shoulder, grounding himself. Smokescreen locked his pedes around Bee’s waist, urging him onward.

In an instant, his memory returned to him and Bee found his effortless rhythm, pulling out of the little valve and replacing himself with shallow thrusts.

It astonished the yellow bot how easily they had adjusted to each other. There was no awkward falter at the start, no need to time a pace, no need to sync their coordination. They just _worked._ Bee supposed it had much to do with how fiercely both of them wanted it.

Smokescreen turned to place a chaste kiss to Bee’s audial, causing him to lift his helm from where he had buried it in the crook of his neck and meet his mouth once more. Smokescreen was oddly romantic in a way that Bee had not anticipated but had decided that he liked.

Bee drove into him harder, lengthening his retractions and snapping his hips. Smokescreen arched up, breaking their lips only to whine, “Oh, Bee,” into the corner of the yellow bot’s mouth. Bee claimed his lips immediately afterward, repeating what had made him whimper, concentrating all of his efforts on his forceful thrusts until their kissing became sloppy.

This was something Smokescreen had wanted for a long time now and was reveling in every second of it. Bee was hitting sensory nodes which made his moans crackle with charge.

Their mouths parted with a wet smack as Bee grunted, pressing his helm to Smokescreen’s, no longer holding anything back. Smokescreen’s spike surged messily between them, ejaculate pooling into the dips and seams of his make. Not seconds later, his valve gave a short, violent quiver before clenching around Bee’s spike. The constriction was so hard that it actually slowed the yellow bot’s retraction. Smokescreen gave a broken scream through his orgasms, sobbing dryly in the very best of ways.

When Smokescreen’s valve relaxed, it worked through the aftershocks in throbbing twitches, gripping Bee repeatedly in a way that had him spilling in multiple bursts. Bee made a desperate noise, one which he was not sure he had heard himself make _ever._ He finished roughly, working through his climax in sharp thrusts which Smokescreen visibly adored.

“Smokescreen,” Bee whispered dazedly, with nothing to follow up the name. It didn’t matter, they both understood.

With an exhausted smile, Smokescreen tightened his embrace around Bee’s shoulders, comfortably warm and utterly satisfied.

True, being in stasis had robbed Smokescreen of a few years. But now, Bee found that actions which he had mistaken for inexperience were perhaps qualities specific to Smokescreen’s personality. Maybe in time the young bot would learn to calm his impulsiveness, appreciate tranquility, and refine his youthful quirks.

But as for his passion, sincerity, and love—Bee hoped some things would never change.

 

 

-

The End


End file.
